


Midnight Snack

by battle_cat



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Dom/sub, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sharing a Body, Tentacle Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 20:16:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16436069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/battle_cat/pseuds/battle_cat
Summary: There are more tentacles now, slithering over his body, touching him everywhere except where he wants it. Because it’s waiting for him, he thinks. Waiting for him to ask. Waiting for him to beg.Or, just your basic symbiote waking you up in the middle of the night to fuck scenario.





	Midnight Snack

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based on [this art](https://fly4level.tumblr.com/post/179119677393/venom-x-eddie-this-ship-is-just) by fly4level.

It’s…he doesn’t know what the hell time it is. Late. Late enough that he was soundly asleep before 

**hungry**

woke him up.

He groans into the pillow. “We just ate.” He’s got the halal butcher down the street giving him fresh offal on the cheap for what he’s convinced the man is a very large dog. If he lets Venom take over when they’re eating it raw, there’s no time to linger on how disgusting it is. But he is not getting up at whateverthefuck o’clock in the morning to get cow heart out of the fridge.

**not that kind of hungry**

There’s something mischievous in the tone—if the symbiote had its face visible he’s sure it would be smirking—but before he has time to process that he gets flipped over onto his back hard enough that he gives a startled yelp.

“Thanks, asshole,” he mutters. “Fully awake now. You happy?”

Thin black tendrils snake out from…somewhere; he’s never exactly sure where they come from…and lace themselves around his arms from wrist to shoulder, pinning him to the bed.

Oh. Shit. _Now_ he knows what that tone was about. It hadn’t taken Venom long to figure out exactly what got him going.

“This your idea of forepl _mmf_ —” A thick tentacle wraps tightly over his mouth and jaw before he can finish. A lump of goo glorps into his mouth, not enough to make him gag but enough to fill it solidly. It’s the kind of thing that’s sort of objectively gross and definitely should not be turning him on. 

There are a lot of those things with Venom.

Like the tongue. It’s hot and slimy and way heavier than you’d think a tongue should be, and what does something that can eat a human head in one bite need that much tongue for anyway? But it’s sliding down the side of his face, across his chest and down his stomach and it sends a shudder of lust through him.

**you liiiike it**

Venom sounds smug as fuck. Its face is floating near his right shoulder, deathtrap of a mouth grinning, but the voice is still in his head.

**you like it so much when I take control**

As it says it, the tentacle around his mouth pushes his head up and back and _fuck,_ goddammit, it already knows him way too well and can take him from zero to sixty like it’s nothing. Of course it can; it’s in his head; it knows exactly what he wants.

**that’s right**

**I know eeeverything**

The tongue slops over his exposed throat, firm and sloooow, and the teeth, the fucking razor-sharp teeth are an inch from his face and jugular.

“Hnnn,” he tries around the goop in his mouth. It comes out much closer to a whine than a protest. The goop has condensed into a sort of rubbery texture, solid but not rigid, warm and alive and organic in a way nothing you can buy at the sex toy store is. It should not be this fucking hot, none of this should be this fucking hot, but he’s already mostly hard just from this.

**you were very noisy last time**

**and you don’t need your voice to tell me what you want**

The tongue is trailing over his body again, sliding over a nipple and tracing downward. At the same time he can feel dozens of tiny tentacles with the dexterity of fingers rippling over his thighs and hips, curling around the waistband of his boxer shorts and tugging them down, past his knees, past his ankles, until they disappear somewhere off the end of the bed. Thick ropes of goo snake around his thighs, keeping his legs pinned and spread just enough that he feels wonderfully, terrifyingly vulnerable.

The tongue continues downward, tracing a lazy S curve around his belly button, and he thinks _fuck yes_ but it slides away down over his hip without touching his cock.

The sound he makes this time is _definitely_ a whine.

**Eddie**

It’s getting better at modulating its voice, or maybe he’s just getting better at noticing its subtleties. This time the purr of his name sounds loving, but also firmly in control, and fuck, _fuck,_ that’s exactly what he needs.

**you’re so _easy_**

He thinks vaguely that maybe he should be offended but…well…there’s not really any arguing with that.

**all your wants**

**all your feelings**

**all right there for me to see**

There are more tentacles now, slithering over his body, touching him everywhere except where he wants it, his cock and his balls and his ass. Because it’s waiting for him, he thinks. Waiting for him to ask. Waiting for him to beg.

**yes Eddie**

**you would like that**

**you would like me to make you beg**

**wouldn’t you**

A thin tendril suddenly strokes up the underside of his cock, but as soon as his hips stutter up to meet it, it flicks away. The tentacles around his legs tighten sharply, enough to make him moan.

_Come on, man,_ he thinks.

**that doesn’t sound like begging to me**

He makes a frustrated noise and bites down on the tentacle-gag in his mouth, and feels an echo of pain ricocheting through unexpected parts of his body and _that_ doesn’t help with anything.

There’s a new appendage, wet and kind of slimy, sliding its way down between his asscheeks. The tongue or tentacle or whatever it is works its way down until its tip brushes his asshole, but all it does is trace infuriatingly slow circles around the sensitive skin there. 

**I can do this all night**

**maybe I will**

God—the little shit— He whimpers, squirms, tries to get closer to something, anything to stimulate him, but there’s no give at all in the hold Venom has on him. Of course there isn’t. The tentacle keeps teasing his asshole, pushing just a millimeter in and then retreating, and his poor neglected cock is aching, and finally he snaps and thinks _please._

**please what**

God, it sounds fucking delighted with itself, the smug little bastard, but he doesn’t care.

_Please fuck me,_ he thinks as unequivocally as he can, and he thinks he can hear, or feel, whatever its equivalent of laughter is.

_Goddammit please fucking fuck me before I explode please please please_

The tentacle or whatever that’s been playing with his ass pushes into him, hot and slick and sudden, and he’s momentarily glad to be gagged because the noise he makes is obscene and loud. It starts out small but seems to be growing as it slides deeper into him, slow but inescapable, until it reaches the exact right spot, of course it does, no one else knows his body like the creature he’s sharing it with, no human lover could know to stop right _there,_ move _right there,_ yes, _fuck_ —

He’s vaguely aware of the absurd noises he’s making, of how tightly his hands are clenched into the sheets, and he doesn’t fucking care; every long, slow thrust is sending bright shuddery shocks of pleasure through him when it hits right _there,_ and he doesn’t have to care about anything else in the world but this, being perfectly held and taken and fucked, and it’s so, so good.

**yes Eddie**

**you feel so good**

He’s not sure if Venom is telling him that he feels good or that it feels good, or if there’s any difference at this point, but he just thinks _yes yes yes_ over and over.

The tongue is back—ohh fuck, the tongue is caressing the ridge of his hipbone and then sliding down and wrapping around his cock—it can wrap twice around the shaft of his cock and squeeze and pulse like no human tongue can—and something else is teasing the head of his cock, something that starts out feeling like a finger and then turns into something that can lick and suck—the tentacle in his ass is still pumping in the same deep, steady rhythm—and there’s teeth, _fuck,_ there’s teeth on his shoulder and on the sensitive skin under the curve of his ass at the same time, and he doesn’t even care how that works; he cares about the sharp scrape that makes him keen, and then he’s coming apart with dizzying white-hot pleasure—

He’s lying on the bed, panting and sweaty as fuck and swimming in a sea of endorphins. He expects to be splattered with come, but either the symbiote licked it up or he came _into_ it, and who knows how the biology of that works.

Every hold on him has been released, and Venom is mostly back inside him, except for a blob roughly the size of a cat that’s sitting on his chest.

He reaches a shaky hand up and strokes it, and it vibrates a full-body wave of contentment back into his skin.

“Sated?” He should probably, like, drink some water or something, but he’s not sure he’s capable of standing up.

**yes**

Venom’s face materializes on the blob in his hand. It licks a gooey stripe up the side of his face.

**you taste delicious**

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [fuckyeahisawthat](http://fuckyeahisawthat.tumblr.com) on Tumblr.


End file.
